“What truth? I knew of your identity from the beginning.” Thankfully, he had never struggled to tell Grace and Hope apart.
Grace’s hand fell from his arm. He watched as she raised her chin and squared her shoulders, gathering her words and her dignity like a shield around her.
Dread stilled his breath. She intended to tell him that his advances from the previous day were unwanted, and she did not feel for him anything beyond friendship. What other reason would she have to appear so grim? His fists clenched, as if he could fight away such words.
“None of this was Hope’s idea.”
Surprise replaced his fear. “None of what?”
“I came up with the plan to switch places.” Her words emerged clear and strong. Unashamed. “I could not bear the thought of leaving home, of journeying to the West Indies. I have never wanted to leave here, and Hope was desperate to have her taste of adventure. I went to her the night before I was to leave and told her my plan. I had thought on it for days before I presented it to her.”
Utterly confused, Jacob started shaking his head. Her declaration made no sense. “I thought you said Hope persuaded you—?”
Grace cut him off, her words spilling out with urgency. “I never said that, though you assumed it. Everyone thinks that Hope’s propensity to rush into things headlong shows some sort of courage, and I do think she is quite brave. But it takes a different sort of bravery to plan all that I did. I had to do something to save myself, because no one else would.” She took in a deep breath and stared at him, her eyes wide and pleading.
Pleading for what?
Everything had been her idea. She had no intention of apologizing for any of it, for admitting all she and Hope had done, all their lies, was wrong. And he had thought—had entertained the idea—of courting her.
“Grace,” he said, taking a step away from her. “I hardly know what to say. I feel—it’s as if I don’t know you at all.”
Tears glimmered in Grace’s eyes. “Perhaps that is true. But I know you, Jacob. You are my dearest friend, and I have watched for the past year as you have done nothing to ensure your own happiness. You must excuse me, for I could not sit so long as you have when action was needed.”
Her words reverberated through his mind, condemning him for acting a coward and not speaking to Hope of his desire to court her. It did not matter. Not really. He could brush aside Grace’s anger, tell her his hesitation had saved them all from heartache, ask if he might try to get it right this time by courting her instead.
But to what end? He’d thought he understood Grace. Yet this conversation had shaken him, left him uncertain.
What was left for him to say? The silence stretched longer between them, the rustling of the leaves and far-off calling of birds the only noises which disturbed the stillness.
At last, Grace spoke. “I know I have upset you. I am sorry for that. But please, Jacob. Do not judge me too harshly. I did what I must to make certain of my future, and to give my sister the chance at one of her dearest dreams.”
Jacob said nothing, the conflict in his heart and mind forcing him to keep still until he worked out what to do. His feelings for her, he realized, remained the same. But what was he to say about her actions?
“I am going to speak to my father now. You likely will not see me for some time.” She lowered her head, the bonnet obscuring his view of her expression. “I hope you can understand, someday. I know you cannot condone my actions, and that is all right. You will make a fine vicar, Jacob.”
Grace turned and went away, ignoring the path and cutting through the long grass in a direct line for the house. She did not look back, though he watched until she disappeared from sight. She never ran. Never faltered. In fact, she marched with the same determination he had seen in the soldiers who had practiced their drills marching through Aldersy years and years ago.
Yes, Grace had courage. But what of her integrity?
He dared not examine his heart’s reaction to how terribly wrong the day had gone.
Chapter 17
Though Grace hadn’t lacked the ability to tell Jacob exactly what she thought of her father’s plan to send her to the West Indies, her determination started withering as soon as she entered the house. Her bonnet and gloves, her reticule, she handed to a maid. “Please let Charlie know I will not need the cart and pony after all,” she said, realizing she had kept the boy and animal waiting for at least half an hour. She would need to make it up to them both.
As she walked down the hall, approaching her father’s door, Grace wanted to continue on by and save her revelation for another time. But when would it be best to confess? No matter the time, her father’s disappointment and anger would be the same.
Her feet stopped directly in front of the study. Her hand raised to knock, and she hesitated again.
Had she not just told Jacob there were different kinds of courage? She had to bear up and do the right thing. She had accepted the consequences when she chose to switch places with Hope.
Grace knocked.
“Come in.” Her father’s voice came through the wood, rich and warm as ever. Rarely had he ever lectured her, or raised his voice, as he had to Hope. Grace had never given him much reason to be displeased with her.
That is certainly about to change. She opened the door and entered, closing it carefully behind her. Her father’s study was not overly large, but it was a comfortable room, full of elegant reds and golds, and dark stained wood. Papa was not behind his desk, as she thought he might be, but standing at the window behind it. He glanced over his shoulder.
“Ah, dear me. Is it time for refreshment already?” he asked, checking the time by the clock on the mantel. He wore his spectacles.
“No, Papa. At least, it is not your usual time. But if you would like something, I might fetch it for you.” And give herself a few more moments of torment, facing the temptation to delay her confession.
“I am well enough,” he answered with a grateful nod. “Is there something I might do for you, daughter?” He raised his graying eyebrows and came away from the window, around his desk. “You look as though you are troubled.”
Grace crossed the distance between them, stopping at the chairs on the other side of the desk. “I have something I need to tell you.” Although she wanted to stare at the floor, she kept her chin level with the ground. “I have done something that will disappoint you.”
Papa stared at her, his face giving nothing of his thoughts away. “Have you? You had better tell me what it is, so we may go forward from there. I can see it upsets you, whatever the matter may be.”
It had been much easier to be brave when she explained herself to Jacob. Would Papa care to even hear the reasons for her actions?
Curling her hands into fists at her side, Grace put her resolve in each word she spoke. “Papa, I am not Hope. I am Grace. We switched places the morning I was to leave.”
Silence. The snapping fire, the slow tick of the clock, hardly made an impression upon her. All Grace could hear was the deafening muteness. Papa stared at her, his expression unchanging.
Until he sighed, and the corners of his eyes wrinkled as he grimaced. “I suspected as much.”
Had he announced he wished to disown her, Grace could not have been more taken aback. “You what?” she stuttered the words out, her voice squeaking. “You could not—” She grabbed the back of the chair for support. “Papa, if you did—?”
“Why not say anything?” he asked for her. “Because I was not sure. I had hoped no daughter of mine would perform such an outrageous farce.” His shoulders sagged. “Grace, how could you lie to me?”
As much as she hated the idea of him shouting at her, this unexpected reaction was somehow worse. “I could not go, Papa,” she said, her voice weak. “I could not board a ship and be away from all I love for a year.”
He took off his spectacles and rubbed at his eyes with the other hand. “Grace. This is a serious thing you have done. You have disobeyed my
wishes, committed a deception not only upon your family but upon the entire neighborhood. Do you grasp the consequences to your actions? Have you any thought as to how this will change you in the eyes of all who know you?”
Grace opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off again.
“I do not imagine you do. Your selfish performance, your lies, have stained you.” He turned away from her. Why was he not shouting at her? Why not offer punishment and be done? “I had a letter yesterday from Mr. Carlbury. He wanted me to know they had sailed. Did you know Hope was gone?”
“Yes.” She could have left it at that but told him the whole truth. “We arranged for her to send a letter before disembarking.”
Lifting his eyes, he fixed her with a disbelieving stare. “Clever of you.” He spoke the words flatly when he ought to have railed at her, or at least sounded disappointed. “This is serious, Grace. Your mother wrote to tell me she is staying another week. Perhaps you ought to write her your confession while I think upon this. I cannot decide how best to handle this situation. She may have greater insight.” And then he went back to his chair, sitting and picking up a book. “Good day, Grace.”
The dismissal did nothing to ease her shock. How could he have no reaction, nothing to say, other than to put her out of his way again?
“Papa?” She twined and twisted her fingers. “Do you not wish to know why?”
He put down the book and leaned back in his chair. “I can imagine. Hope wanted to have her adventure. You desired to stay home. You did what suited you best, never mind who you hurt or the trust you broke.”
Although not technically incorrect, it was much less defensible than how she had worded it to Jacob. “No one should be forced to leave their home if they do not wish to go,” she said at last, voice nearly a whisper. “It was not what suited me best, Papa. It was not fear of going.”
“Doubtless those were strong motivators. I have excused you to your room, Grace. I no longer wish to speak of the matter.” He did not lift his book, but kept his eyes on her, a furrow appearing in his brow.
Grace closed her eyes. “Papa, can you not see? There are precious few choices for a woman. To order me halfway across the world as some sort of punishment—”
He interrupted, tone at last stern. “It was an opportunity for growth. One that might never come your way again. It is true, you had no choice in the matter, but I acted as a concerned father. You are content to let life happen all around you, Grace, without actively seeking to better yourself or the world in which you live. Hope, though she can be over-exuberant, is not afraid of the world or of leaving home. She would make adventure for herself anywhere she goes. But not you.” He released a long-suffering sigh, a sound which bruised Grace’s heart. “You are timid, you are content for things to remain unchanging, and it concerns me. Now. Go to your room.”
The command given firmly, Grace had to obey. She sucked in a quick breath and turned, each footstep falling heavily. Which of them was right? She thought it her. But that Papa could not understand her, and he saw such weakness in her character, hurt deeply.
There were arguments she might have made. Her parents hated traveling and rarely ever took their children to London, for the Season or anything else. They remained happily at home. Why was it wrong for her to wish for the same?
And timid? She could not think herself so. Especially given the difficulty of pretending to be Hope in such varied situations. Jacob had not thought her timid. He thought her willful and rebellious.
As for the neighbors, why should they care which twin went where? Or which they had been talking to? Few of them even bothered to ascertain which sister they spoke to before beginning conversations.
No one would care at all.
For the first time since Hope had gone away, Grace entered her own bedroom. The familiar greens and blues, the soft rug by her hearth, immediately comforted her bruised heart. She settled upon her bed and took down her hair. At last, she could be herself again.
* * *
Jacob paced back and forth after dinner, eyeing the writing desk in the corner of the parlor.
His mother noticed. “Whatever is wrong with you tonight, Jacob?” He pulled his gaze away from the paper and pen, fixing it upon his mother instead. She sat in her favorite chair, her little terrier in her lap. “You hardly said a word at dinner and now you are attempting to wear a path into my best carpet.”
His feet stopped.
“I think it is one of two things,” Matthew said from the other side of the room, newspaper open in his lap. “He is either nervous over the ordination or anxious about a lady.”
Elizabeth and Mary both giggled where they sat upon the couch, organizing a box of buttons.
“Jacob, anxious about a lady?” Elizabeth’s eyebrows arched high. “I cannot imagine it. He has never courted anyone.”
Mary, younger and more intrigued by the interaction of men and women than not, peered at him through narrowed eyes. “Jacob does not even dance often. I cannot think it is about a lady.”
He looked from one family member to the other, hardly knowing if he ought to be insulted or amused. Unfortunately, given his present state of mind, he was merely tired. “I happen to enjoy dancing, and I will thank you all not to speak of me as though I am not present.”
Matthew turned his newssheet over. “You had better tell Mother what is bothering you if you wish for the rest of us to stop speculating.”
“It’s nothing.” Jacob took one of the empty chairs near the couch. “I suppose I’m anxious to be on my way tomorrow.” He could not tell them about Grace. He did not know if she had spoken to her own father yet.
He felt his mother’s stare, as he had many times in his youth. When she spoke, he was unsurprised. “Perhaps you ought to go and visit Sir Isaac before you leave. He is one of your oldest friends, after all, and may wish you to take your leave of him.”
Jacob answered without thought, “I will only be away a week.”
“Jacob.” When his mother spoke in that commanding tone of voice he had to look directly at her. It was not the voice of gentle coaxing she had used before, but one of command. When he turned to her, she considered him a moment with pursed lips before issuing her edict. “Go visit Sir Isaac.”
“Yes, Mother.” He stood and went to the door.
“Why does he have to go? And at this time of night?” Mary asked, her curiosity sweetly innocent.
It was Matthew who answered. “Because he will talk to Sir Isaac if he will not talk to us.”
Jacob shut the door behind him and went for the stairs, smiling at how well his family knew him. Perhaps they were right. He could trust Isaac with Grace’s secret, and someone ought to know in case she needed assistance. Whether or not she had revealed her ruse to her father, things would get more difficult for her.
He rushed through getting dressed, not bothering to call a servant. He might not look tidy when he arrived at Isaac’s door, but his friend did not care about such things. Once his dinner clothes had been properly replaced with riding boots and the rest of an ensemble suited to such an activity, he went for the stables.
It was dinner time for most of the neighborhood, or just past the hour for such. Isaac, a bachelor with a friend to entertain, would not think the hour too late for a visit.
When he arrived at the baronet’s house, Woodsbridge, there were enough windows lit from within for him to know his friend was home. Woodsbridge was an old establishment, consisting of only two floors and the attics and cellars. It was not a large residence and did not give away that the family was old and well-funded.
Isaac’s home had always been comfortable. One did not feel they must be on their best behavior or wear their finest clothing when visiting.
Upon Jacob’s arrival, he was shown to Isaac’s billiards room. Mr. King and Isaac were both present, coats removed, billiard-sticks in hand.
“Good evening, Barnes,” Isaac said, laying his stick down across the table. “You are just
in time for some amusement. We are trying to determine a method by which a one-armed man can still play billiards. Thus far, we have been unsuccessful.”
Jacob chuckled. “You were never great at billiards even with two arms.”
His friend sighed and hung his head in a comical manner. “That is the truth of it.” Then he brightened and adjusted his cravat. “What brings you here this evening?”
Nothing he could speak of in front of Mr. King. “I have come to take my leave of you for a short time.”
“Ah, ordination. Congratulations. You will do a wonderful service for our parish.” Isaac lifted his coat from where it hung on a chair. “Mr. King, will you forgive us a moment? I would like to have a word with my friend.”
“Certainly.” Mr. King made to put down his stick, but Isaac shook his head.
“No, old fellow. You stay here and practice playing one handed, so that you may give me instruction later.” Then Isaac, with seemingly practiced ease, put his coat over his left shoulder, then reached behind himself to slide his right arm into the sleeve. The manner of putting on his own coat ought to have been inelegant, but Isaac acted as if it had always been natural. He pulled the front together and buttoned it closed.
Jacob bowed to Mr. King and followed his friend out of the room and down the passageway.
“You will come back to us a vicar and a week later give your first sermon,” Isaac said as he pushed open the door to his library. “We have all gone down such interesting paths. Silas married my sister, I went off to war, you are taking orders, and the Everlys—”
“—are the reason I am here,” Jacob said, shutting the door behind them. “I know you have been busy of late, but I must ask. Have you noticed anything strange about our friend?”
Isaac blinked. “Hope? Not precisely. I found it odd she did not defend Grace at dinner the other night, but perhaps she felt she could not, with her father there. I imagine it still hurts to know Grace is off on a grand adventure while Hope is stuck here with us.” He settled into the couch before the fire as he spoke, adjusting a cushion for his comfort.
Discovering Grace: An Inglewood Romance Page 17